by T. A. Miles
While the dwarf made off, giving Tristus a shove on her way past, Shirisae’s smile faded. It left her altogether when her gaze met with Alere’s. Several paces away, the young Verressi made no secret either of watching her, or of his contempt. What bothered him, beyond his unflagging resent over past offenses was a mystery, and one she would worry little over in days to come. He was a grudge-bearing, arrogant child. At times she could sympathize with him and at times she didn’t care to do anything more elaborate than to ignore him. She had personally done nothing to him, save show interest in the one he had come to desire. In that pursuit, he may have been the one to cause more harm to his people than those who had neglected to fight for them.
Awareness of her lack of charity came only after the thought was formed, and if she regretted it, Alere did not wait for her to demonstrate it in any way. He stalked off to assist in striking their camp.
Shirisae’s gaze returned to the hillside, where Xu Liang had just begun his descent to join them. Her mother had instructed her to trust him to guide her, as she trusted the Phoenix to guide her and all of their people. Of course, she agreed to do so; Firestorm had been drawn to the other weapons he’d brought together. Prophecy called for venturing outside of their Phoenix-given sanctuary. It had all made simple sense at the time, just as other conclusions she’d drawn had. Now she wondered if she had oversimplified, and why her mother had let her.
Well, she had argued Tristus. Shirisae felt now that she had been a prideful child for arguing in return. It occurred to her now that her mother had said very little about Xu Liang. That could only mean that she had much to learn, not only about the mystic, but about the Phoenix as well.
After a night of undisturbed rest, passage through the mountains began. Tristus appreciated that Xu Liang had allowed them to linger for just a short time in the safety of the meadow, that they might truly catch themselves up with all the distance they had traveled. They had all found a moment to refresh themselves in an icy brook discovered by Alere during his early scouting. They had replenished their water supply as well and after a time warming themselves and their breakfast over a fire, they organized and moved on.
The hills were predominantly rocky, like most of Aer’s landscape. They led into dusty mountain paths that carried them into the lower layers of clouds and a different brand of cold. The winds were harsh and incessant, rolling sheets of snow off the surface of the slopes, spreading them across the sky, like crystal-adorned veils. It was a place of isolation, but also of beauty, of sheer crests of rock touching the sky and a labyrinth of sloped earth rolling them ever so gradually toward a destination that could very well have been Eris, if on the other side of Dryth. Tristus had not made it so high into the Alabaster Range, and now he understood his error in course. He had traveled the through the mountains instead of over them. Peaks he’d though he had come to had clearly not been high enough.
Of course, he understood why. If he could yet believe that God had guided him, then it was more relevant and important for him to find Xu Liang than the angels. He had seen one, and perhaps that was all he needed to see of them.
The days through the mountains were without assault or concern beyond proper rest and nourishment. Xu Liang seemed the most at odds with their course and the long distance it amounted to. Though he had been brought from mortal injury by miracle, it appeared that he had only been spared the dying. His strength continued to suffer, particularly in the cold. At some point, the air had begun to feel warmer, and Tristus found himself very grateful for that, as it seemed to grant the mystic something of a second wind. He led them with renewed vigor over terrain that grew increasingly less craggy. Eventually, the only objects that cropped up from the flattening landscape were tall, narrow hills that looked like daggers of rock. The grass stood high between these formations, and seemed to be growing higher, the further the companions went. It wasn’t until they came out of the forest of stone and upon a road winding through deep amber fields that the true feeling of transition swept over Tristus.
He had been riding with Taya seated behind him upon Sylvashen’s back. Shirisae often rode close, with Tarfan sharing her mount. Alere hung back, just as he always had, but the elf rarely rode ahead in this foreign land—and under Xu Liang’s advisement when they began to near Sheng Fan. Gai Ping—seeming more like a trusted advisor than a bodyguard—rode constantly near the mystic, while Guang Ci took the lead, Wan Yun beside him. Cai Zheng Rui and Shi Dian were frequently at the rear of the caravan.
Overcome by the change in the very air around him, Tristus did what he hadn’t dared to in so many weeks he’d lost count. He guided his horse up to Blue Crane and rode alongside Xu Liang, quietly, for several minutes. At some tremendous length, he asked, “Where is this place?”
The mystic did not answer immediately. During his silence, the road curved onto a small stone bridge over a wide stream, where two elderly fellows sat fishing on a small raft. They were dressed in rough, loose-fitting shirts and trousers. The shirts were wrapped around their upper bodies like robes, tied at the waist. On their heads they wore wide hats and when they looked up to see the riders passing over their space of solitude, one could see their gray and white beards of a sparser cut than most men of Western Dryth wore, tipped dark eyes, and wrinkled but telltale features. They were Fanese and, in the Fanese tradition, they bowed their heads when the man who was evidently above their station in life rode past them with his guards.
Xu Liang inclined his head in return, and finally said, “This is my home.”
Tristus looked into the mystic’s fair face, and, so moved was he by the peace he found there—that he had never seen there before—his eyes misted at once. Xu Liang, you’ve finally returned. I’m happier for you than you’ll know.
Xu Liang stopped their group by midday—several days since Fu Ran had left them—summoning them off the road, where they gathered beneath a slender tree with draping limbs. The companions sat in the shade, Tristus feeling a little cold after beginning to feel too warm beneath the unobscured sunlight during their ride. Birdsong filled the bright air, sounding not so different from the trills and coos heard in other parts of Dryth. Yet, clearly, this land was like none other anywhere else in the world. The feel of it was indescribable… foreign, yet somehow familiar. It was welcoming, in spite of everything Xu Liang had said, and continued to say even now.
Tristus pulled his attention away from the beauty of the world around him and listened to the mystic’s speech, one that was meant to prepare them for their journey even deeper into his homeland.
“You have entered Sheng Fan,” Xu Liang said, for all those who were yet in wonder over their location. “I will not say you are the first outsiders to cross our borders, but you are, without question, the first who have come from so far, escorted by an officer of the Empire. Word of your arrival will travel quickly.”
“But we’ve seen no one outside of Aer, except those two men back by the water,” Shirisae pointed out. “I did not even see a village nearby. They seemed like hermits.”
Patiently, Xu Liang said, “Nevertheless, word will travel quickly. This will inspire various interests amongst the people. Some will be curious. Some will be fearful. Still others will be angry. For those already losing faith in the Song, this will come as a welcome excuse to become further disenchanted, perhaps even rebellious. It is at great risk that I have guided you here, but I believe the greater risk lies in your absence and the absence of the Swords you carry.
“Very few of the people here will speak any of your languages. It may seem to you as if no one does, so few and far between are the scholars who care to study the outside tongues. You will begin to feel disoriented, if you do not already. At times you may feel persecuted, or as if you are being treated unfairly and with disdain. The noble stations some of you hold back in your homelands will not be recognized here.
“You must trust me, my friends. Now more than ever. T
hough it may not always seem so to you, I will act to protect you and to make you feel comfortable here. My task will be made easier through your patience and, at times, your compliance.”
Xu Liang paused long enough to smile, only slightly and not with any particular amount of humor. It appeared more a display of earnest request. Looking longest at Alere, though his eyes moved over all of them, he added, “It will be necessary for all of you to bow from time to time. Here, it is not always a gesture of obeisance, but also of respect and amicability. All individuals are worthy of that respect, including peasants and your enemies. Unfortunately, there are few, like myself, who include outsiders among the worthy. I ask you to try not to be offended or discouraged by this. Respect is earned with respect, not through resentment.
“I would like to conclude that there is a wealth of trust and generosity to be found in Sheng Fan. My people are not unkind or malicious by nature. They are, as all other peoples I have encountered, wary of change and fearful of the dark forces in this world.”
“We’ve followed you this far, mage,” Tarfan said when Xu Liang had finished. “I think I can speak for every one of us ‘outsiders’ when I say we’re not about to turn around on you now. I’m going to feel a little odd, though, if you make us get up and start practicing bowing to one another.”
Tristus smiled quietly while the dwarves and Shirisae laughed. His eyes were on Xu Liang, watching the change taking place within the mystic as he began to blend in with the land of his birth, seeming more at peace and even more confident with every passing moment.
Talking to Taya aboard the Pride of Celestia had accomplished little except to make Tristus feel better, and to enforce what he had already known: that one can’t force love from someone, but that doesn’t mean that one must stop loving them. The lady dwarf wasn’t at all pleased with the idea of Tristus and Alere getting terribly close, but she set aside her personal feelings toward the elf and helped Tristus to realize once again that a false love was unfair. While it wouldn’t actually be a false love—he did care for Alere very deeply—sooner or later the distraction posed by his feelings for Xu Liang would cause undue pain and possibly threaten their friendship while Tristus’ heart continued to stray, ultimately forming a rift between them. Even if he could never have Xu Liang, Tristus had his hope, and that would have to be enough. He wanted nothing to do with even the idea of hurting Alere.
It was not so difficult to keep away from the white elf during most days, however. Alere tended to keep himself away, but he selected his times to move near with accuracy. Tristus felt as if he would eventually surrender to Alere willingly, and then would begin his plot to escape, to be free to pursue what he had no hope of catching.
I must be out of my head, Tristus thought to himself, then decided not to dwell on the subject any more for the day.
“We are currently in the kingdom of Ying,” Xu Liang was saying. “This particular region is not largely populated. I predict that we will pass through it with little interaction with others and, as a consequence, little opportunity to refresh our dwindling supplies. We would never make it to the Imperial City on these few rations and this is not a prime area for hunting as the fields you see around you are largely relegated to farming. The city of Lu Ban is along our route, but it is quite large, filled with as many miscreants as merchants for reasons that have yet to be addressed at the Imperial Court, and I believe it could pose dangers for you. For this reason, I will take us to Dhong Castle, where I intend to beg the assistance of one of my colleagues, Lord Xiang Wu.”
Mountains crept into the landscape once again as the company veered slightly north from their previous southeastern course and once again, into mountains. The slopes of Ying were not like any in Yvaria or Andaria. They were wide and majestic, draped with snow that gleamed like millions of pearls glinting in the sunlight, and that by evening were colored with a lush, soft purple, as the robes of twilight settled about their peaked shoulders. The land beneath the mountains was forested with lofty pines, reaching up to catch the gently falling snow. Streams whispered through and about scattered stones that were round and flat, frosted with winter’s breath—though it might not have been winter in this region. Truthfully, Tristus had lost the seasons since his long ago departure from home.
The caravan left the road for a time and later came to another, one that cut in a relatively straight line through the tall forests. It led them eventually back over open land, where gradually the beauty of the terrain and the awe that Tristus experienced a little more with each day culminated in the most breathtaking interpretation of a castle Tristus had ever imagined. The wonder of this structure rivaled the awesome scale of Vilciel, and for a long time he could only stare, questioning whether or not he was truly awake.
The stronghold sat on a ridge nestled above a bed of trees. The moon gleamed, like a great pearl overhead, casting oblique rays of color over the fantastically canted roofs that seemed to sweep over their foundations, curling back up at the corners to reveal the delicate work put into each layer of graceful architecture beneath them. The castle itself rested upon a stone wall that was embraced distantly by other walls, terracing down the mountainside. Torches or lanterns lined the battlements, casting shadow against the moon’s silvery veil.
“My God,” Tristus breathed, when he was able. “Have you ever seen anything so lovely in all your life?”
Behind him, Taya’s response came meekly, as if the sheer grandeur of the fortification ahead intimidated her. “Not in all my dreams.”
“It is quite impressive,” even Shirisae admitted.
Sharing the saddle of her great black beast of a horse, Tarfan harrumphed. “It looks like an articulate box for trapping the foolish.”
Tristus did not take the old dwarf as seriously as Tarfan might have preferred. He said, “You make such a statement after blatantly giving Xu Liang your wholehearted trust.”
“I gave it to Xu Liang, mind you, pup. This grand fortress, I’ll trust as far as its threshold and no further.”
“I’ve known only one other as suspicious as you, elder one,” Shirisae said to her stout passenger.
Tarfan offered another grunt of a sigh. “And in this your sibling and I might finally agree on something!”
While the Andarian, dwarves, and elves stared in fascination at Dhong Castle, Xu Liang sent Wan Yun ahead as an envoy to announce their arrival, and to request an audience. All seemed to go well. The bodyguard returned just when they were upon the first wall and rode with them through the open gates. Xu Liang didn’t have to see the eyes of the guards along the battlements overhead to know that they were firmly on the peculiar strangers led by one of their own. Some of the men would have recognized Xu Liang for what he was, if not who, and they would talk. Those at the Imperial City would not be caught completely by surprise when Xu Liang finally arrived. The Empress would be concerned. Jiao Ren would be opposed, but he would not argue too much. The young general had only spoken out against Xu Liang openly and vehemently in his nightmares. In spite of his continuing dreams of irrational conflict, Xu Liang was relieved to see that reality still seemed to be firmly in place in Sheng Fan.
The Mountain Fortress of the Peacock
Xiang Wu was nearly seventy, but his hair remained black and the creases of age only added dignity to his handsome features. He moved steadily and proudly, sure of his being alive, not of his advanced years. It seemed, as Xu Liang looked upon the governor of Ying, that his true father would live forever, scarcely changing while the seasons slipped by. Xu Liang was glad to be at Dhong Castle, and deeply honored in the presence of the man who had sired him.
The pleasant stir of reunion was promptly quashed by the severity of the circumstances and the cutting tone in Xiang Wu’s voice while he stood by a window, looking out into the courtyard at the collection of barbarians at his doorstep. He had yet to allow them indoors, and so long as they were left out in the chill a
ir, Xu Liang decided to leave his personal guards with them as well. He begged the others to mind the guards, to stay put if they gestured for them to do so, and to be patient while he spoke with the lord of the castle.
“You have been gone a long time, Imperial Tactician,” Xiang Wu informed him, as if Xu Liang were not already aware of just how long his journey had taken him, or how far from Sheng Fan. “We had begun to wonder whether or not the Heavens had forsaken you and let you perish in the barbarian realms. It came to be of particular concern when Our Imperial Highness sent an envoy to inform us that she would like us to begin considerations for candidates to be appointed to the office of Imperial Tactician.”
Currents of relief rushed through Xu Liang’s body. “The Empress is well, then?”
Xiang Wu shot him a glare that, in his excessive weariness, caused him to flinch inside helplessly. “You did not acquire your station in this life through stupidity!” the governor snapped. “You will surely lose it through such if you continue along this ruinous path!”
Xu Liang allowed a space of silence to calm the air, then said respectfully. “I will ask again, Lord Xiang Wu: Is the Empress well?”
Xiang Wu glared at him a moment longer, then cast his gaze to the night sky. “She is alive, but she is no longer under your protection. She has not been for some time, and while you still hold your place, others work tirelessly and meticulously at pulling it out from under you. Your favor with the Empress may not be what it was when you left. It is unlikely to be restored if you arrive before her with a troupe of outsiders.”
“Our Imperial Highness will understand their purpose.”
“But will she understand yours?” Xiang Wu asked. When Xu Liang frowned curiously, he added. “Don’t be naïve. Do you think that people would not speak in your absence, that their words would not reach the Empress’ ears? Rumors can ruin a man, as quickly as they can grant him favor. It is especially bad for you while conditions at Fa Leng worsen. Ha Ming Jin will take the province and once he has begun to expand his territory—and to officially claim it his and not the Empire’s—others will follow. The Song will fall and you, Lord Xu Liang, will most assuredly fall with them.”